


Anne Boleyn and Me

by orphan_account



Category: Video Blogging & YouTube RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Tudor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 03:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan is in love with the woman who uses him, and Phil is there to save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anne Boleyn and Me

**Author's Note:**

> i bet there aren't any other works with the dan/anne tag :P

Anne Boleyn. Pale, pointed face, all sharp angles and cold eyes. Dark hair, scraped back until you tear it out of the bun, at the only time when she'll let you. The time when she's panting, sheen of seat across her face, cheeks flushed and purity destroyed. There's only so much Henry can give to her, you see. He can never get her this way, she tells me, and that's my point of pride with this whole thing. Giving more pleasure to the Queen than the King himself. There's a sort of arrogance that comes with it, I'll admit. I've known her for years. Ever since she was a girl, wondering what it would be like to be kissed. She loved me, I felt sure of it.

She loved power more. 

Still does. But there's a part of her, a reckless part. A part that doesn't care what happens with us. If we're found out, we'll both be executed within the day. But still she calls me to her chambers, day after day. And who am I to refuse? A little part of me still loves her, even if she's just in it for the sex. It's hard, to pretend I don't have feelings about it. I'm not even sure why I do. Her face is more interesting than beautiful: angular and strange, without symmetry or sparkle. She's ruthless and ambitious, everything I never was. I shouldn't care about her, but I do. 

She forbids me from getting married, and a part of me wonders if that's because she cares, too. If she wants me all to herself. It's idle dreaming, of course, but I wonder. I wonder if underneath the cold exterior, she's still the carefree child of her youth. Jealous when I played with her sister, joyous over the smallest things. 

She summons me night or day, whenever she can get away from the watchful eyes of servants or the crass hand of the king. I can be disturbed at any time, night or day. I’m subject to her every whim. 

Like now, for instance. Making my way across a courtyard dressed only in my night things, praying that I will not be seen. I wish I lived nearer to the Queen, to prevent this inconvenience, but I understand. It would seem suspicious, since I offer nothing to the court except a shady family name. Being anywhere near the Queen’s quarters is an honour that people like me do not deserve. 

She’s waiting when I get there, standing by the window and staring out at the moon. The sight is familiar: her dark hair hangs loosely down her back, wavy and natural as anyone ever sees it. She doesn’t have to pretend for me, she can be herself without worry. Her ivory skin blends into the white night-gown that she wears. It represents purity—the colour—even though she is anything but. I know she is a manipulative, cruel liar, with pearls around her neck and darkness in her heart. But when she turns, and her face lights up with her smile, and I’m by her side in an instant, tracing her cheek with my hand.

“Dan…” she whispers.

I kiss her gently at first, pretending I don’t notice the tears that obviously triggered this visit falling against my face. That’s always been our way. She doesn’t like to talk about how she feels; she likes to shut herself off, to have security in herself. Never letting anyone in.

***

Normally she makes me leave. Normally it’s harsh tones and covering herself up and no touching, afterwards.

Tonight it’s different, and it’s not like I don’t know why. I live in the court, and I know the hatred that nearly everyone feels towards her. She can’t be unaware of that. Tonight, though, she pulls me into her, after she’s sated and relaxed, and she closes her eyes, breathing deeply without requesting that I get out. I think that I should, but then again, we haven’t hugged in years. This—cuddling—is the closest we’ve been emotionally for almost as long as I can remember.

When I wake up, the light is rising steadily outside the window, and I can hear Anne’s soft snores and snuffles, vulnerable as she is in sleep. It makes me smile through the panic—I’m not sure what time it is, but there will be people here soon.

“Oh,” a new voice gasps.  

I leap away from Anne’s sleeping form, almost falling off the bed in the process. My hand begins to shake, a signal of anxiety that I’m all too conscious of. Pulling the bed-covers up to my chest, I glance up at the intruder.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologises, and it’s without judgment. He’s really just saying he’s sorry for walking in. There’s no hint of malice, no threat of blackmail or of him reporting us to the King.

Nothing. 

I stare at him for a second before cautiously climbing out of the bed, gathering my clothes from where they were flung onto a chair. He averts his eyes politely and I smile to myself, thinking that I might have found someone, well…nice, in this court of liars and thieves. 

“Hi,” I say. “And you are?”

“Phil. Um, what are you doing here? I mean…so, I know what you’re doing here, but, like…okay, I screwed that up. I’m sorry. I’m the Queen’s serving boy, I guess. So…” 

I cut off his nervous stammering with a grin, pulling on my shirt. 

“It’s fine. Did you wanna walk back with me? I don’t usually have any company, so…”

“Thanks, but I should really stay here. I’m meant to get her ready and stuff,” Phil replies. 

“Doesn’t she have, like, lady servants to do that?” I say. 

“Okay, yeah. I’ll come with you. What’s your name?”

“I’m Dan. Dan Howell.”

“Nice to meet you, Dan. No offence, but it’s a good thing I was the one who caught you. Next thing you know Elinor will be in and she won’t hesitate to snitch. She’s really loyal to Catherine,” Phil warns, looking me dead in the eye. 

“I’ll be more careful,” I promise. “But on the bright side, this has been going on for like a year, and we’ve never met before now.”

“Best to be optimistic,” he agrees.

We leave the room hastily, shutting the door behind us. Anne still hasn’t woken up and we take care to remove all evidence of my being there before leaving. 

The light outside paints the court pink and orange, and we rush across the cobbles, seeing a few other people on their way to various locations: blacksmiths, servants and even the odd nobleman or woman, trying to sneak away. 

I don’t blame them.

As we go, I talk to Phil. It’s probably a little weird for him, but I’ve always wanted a friend in court, and since Anne ascended to power I haven’t had one. I’m not the most confident person and the other noble-people intimidate me, and Phil is actually the friendliest person I’ve met within palace grounds, ever. 

Which says a lot about the kinds of people I have to interact with. 

“So, you’re a servant. That’s gotta suck, right?”

“It does,” Phil replies, heartfelt. “Especially with Anne…oh, right. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, I know how awful she can be,” I admit.

“Then why do you… never mind.” 

“No, no. It’s a fair question. I suppose it’s mostly that she won’t let me leave. I mean, I could be arrested if I tried to get out of it. I think…if she’d let me go, I could get over her. She’s flawed, very flawed. I could find a nice woman to marry and that would be that. But she…she keeps making me go back,” I explain. 

“I know how you feel,” Phil nods. “Well, kind of. But you’re forced to be in love with someone who’s…not right for you. I suppose I’ve never been in love, but they try to…she’s a nice girl, my fiancée. Carrie. Lovely, but. I just, can’t. And I have to.”

I’ve heard almost the same speech before, a roundabout way of telling me…

“You’re gay?”

“I didn’t say that!” Phil protests.

“I had a friend, me and Anne did. He was called Chris, and she was jealous of him. So when he told me, in pretty much the same way as you, she listened in. And he was executed. That was when I first realized that I shouldn’t care about her as much as I do.” 

“That’s horrible,” Phil whispers. “But you…you’re not going to…”

“No, no! Of course not! If I’m speaking openly, I suppose I loved him. Kissed him under the oak tree where we’d play, back when we were kids. I grew up not thinking anything of it, until he told me about how it was a possibility. To fall in love with men. But then again, I love her, too. Loved her. I don’t know.” 

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, I barely know you. You can…go back, if you want. Just…sorry, for bothering you,” I stutter, walking quickly away.

“Wait!” he calls.

I don’t look back. 

***

The next time I see him, it’s the day of Anne’s execution. I’m sitting in the stands, watching like the masochist I am, and he comes and sits next to me. 

“I’m sorry,” are the first words out of his mouth. “But…at least they didn’t catch you.”

“I’m actually relieved,” I reply sadly. “In the end, there were tighter restrictions on her. I didn’t have to…I didn’t have to see her. And now, it’s over. Finally over. I feel like I’m free.”

“And what about…is there someone else? Did you find a nice wife?” he asks.

“Did you?” I respond, raising an eyebrow.

“Carrie and I got married.”

“Congratulations. And you love her?”

“No.”

“That’s the way, innit.”

“I feel lonely, half the time. And now I’m about to lose my job. Unless Henry marries Jane Seymour and decides to re-employ me…”

“…which is actually quite likely,” I point out. “You’ll be fine. But I’ve been relying on my brother’s income for years, and our parents’ money has all but run out. I don’t know what to do.”

“Are you trying to guilt me into getting you a job?” Phil laughs.

“Depends on whether it’s working or not.”

“I don’t know a thing about Jane,” Phil says. “She might hate me. I’m not sure what I can do…”

“Then no. I was most certainly not embarrassingly begging for your help,” I say, blushing.

“It’s okay. A few years ago, I was in the same position. Desperate for a job. That’s how I ended up like this.”

There’s a silence, and we simply look around at the spectacle that is to celebrate Queen Anne’s death. It seems tacky because it is—all these people gathered to jeer as the woman they hate is beheaded. The wooden stands have been hastily constructed so that the public can watch, because that’s what we _do_. Watch death like it’s a sport. I hate it, but you can’t change the way things are.

“I cheated.”

It’s a whisper, but it’s desperate. Like he wants reassurance, like he has to have someone know about his betrayal.

“Who?” I ask just as quietly, withholding any judgment. He didn’t judge me, all those months ago.

“You don’t know him. Kitchen boy. PJ. I just…”

“It’s okay,” I reassure him. “It’s fine. You can’t go through your whole life like…like, being with a woman you don’t love. Find someone who you can love, who loves you back. But…you should tell your wife. She’s probably not happy, either.”

“Thanks, Dan.”

“No problem.” I look around, checking that we’re alone, and then my hand is in his. “This okay?” I ask quickly, squeezing his hand.

“This is okay,” he smiles.

And it was.


End file.
